Assailant
by The-blackfirewolf
Summary: SEQUEL TO GUARDIAN. The team thought that when Matthews changed Reid back into a human, everything would go back to normal. But Reid knows that it isn't over, and it's getting harder and harder to hide his new abilities from the team. Will the team figure out what is happening, before it's too late?
1. Oscar knows all

**A/N: Hi guys, here is the long awaited sequel to Guardian! Yeah, right. Anyway, it's been a tough few weeks for me; first I flipped my ATV and nearly broke my damn hip, and today it was decided that our old cat had to be put down (He's older than I am, I basically grew up with him my entire life so... We're all gonna miss him a lot). So yeah, I feel like complete crap at the moment. And I'm not just saying all this personal shit to try and get more reviews, I've been accused of that before, and you know what? I'm telling you this and posting this ahead of schedule because I know people will review, and reviews always cheer me up, and my eyes are hurting from crying so much and my leg STILL hurts like a fucking bitch, so I could use some cheering up right now. So yeah, if you have a problem with that, shove it up your ass 'cause I don't want to hear it. Rant over.**

**Thanks to _silverwrym_, once a loyal Guardian reader, and now my beta for this story! Without you this wouldn't nearly be as smooth or complete. Also thanks to my IRL friend_ TheChiaroscuro_ (who I don't think would appreciate me saying her real name) who FINALLY finished Guardian after I bitched at her so much. Now she can listen to me bitch about the sequel... *cackles in manic glee***

**The title for this story was chosen because an assailant is the opposite of a guardian. That will make more sense in later chapters.**

**Summary: The team thought that when Matthews changed Reid back into a human, everything would go back to normal. But Reid knows that it isn't over, and it's getting harder and harder to hide his new abilities from the team. Will the team figure out what is happening, before it's too late? **

**Rating: Will be T for now, but I will change it to M if you guys think I should.**

**Warnings: Some creepiness, mild blood and violence (especially in later chapters), some iffy language (mostly from me in Author's Notes), and overwhelming angst. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own CM in any shape or form. I just write stupid stories for it.**

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**Chapter 1: Oscar knows all**

Reid took a deep breath as he entered the BAU, clutching his messenger bag close to his side and squeezing his hands into tense fists. Flashes of colours burned his eyes and the bright florescent lights beat down on him like a spotlight, seeming to reveal every single one of his flaws and fears. The guard at the entrance, who usually gave him a gruff "Good morning," just looked at him as he passed, shifting uncomfortably. Reid might of thought that was weird, but his skin was burning and he had started to sweat uncontrollably, his mind shaking to its deepest root with anxiety. He hadn't felt this sort of nervousness since his first days of joining the BAU, and he couldn't quite explain why that was.

The elevator was crowded, but when the doors opened to emit him, everyone took a step back, like he was some dangerous animal that needed space. He was glad to get off at his floor and away from the awkward, silent atmosphere, nearly falling flat on his face in his haste to get out of the enclosed space. But outside of the elevator wasn't any better than the inside.

Every person he passed seemed to stop whatever they were doing just to stare and whisper behind their hands to their neighbours. He smiled weakly at some of them, but all they did stare blankly at him, so he gave up on that in favour of making it to his desk as soon as possible. They didn't laugh, or glare, or do _anything _really, which set Reid on edge even more. He could feel their dead, emotionless expressions drilling into his back as he hurried away.

He could see his desk, and instead of feeling a flutter of relief, he felt a wave of panic crush down on him. It was so far away, like a tiny island in the middle of an ocean. It seemed like he would never be able to reach it before he was drowned in the tides of unblinking looks he was receiving.

Full out running now, he still didn't seem to get any closer, and his vision began to tunnel, with his desk as a small pinprick of light in the distance. It felt like he was struggling through quicksand as he pushed the glass door open and stumbled into the office area, heaving for breath. Noises were muffled and everyone moved in slow-motion around him, stopping just to gaze silently at his struggle, so that he wanted to scream at all of them to just _goddamn say something, anything! _

Then he collapsed into his chair, panting and sucking in gulps of air, shaking from his efforts. Everything was normal, with people going about their business and not even giving him a second glance. Telephones rang shrilly and there was a hum of conversation that lingered in the air, with the tip-tap of people's shoes adding a rhythmic texture to the daily sounds in the office. Reid laid his head down on his desk, his sides still rising and falling rapidly, and listened to the dim gurgle of the coffee machine in the break-room, wondering suddenly why he had been so panicked.

_Everything is fine, _he told himself, _why wouldn't it be? _With a shaky laugh, Reid straightened back up to look directly into the face of his boss, Hotch. Jerking guiltily, he was about to say he was just about to get to work, when he noticed something. Hotch's face was completely smoothed of any emotion, and his eyes held no light or warmth. He wasn't even wearing his usual "Hotch glare." His face was just… blank.

"Do you think this is funny, Reid?" he asked, not a muscle twitching in his face. Reid blinked confusedly, and maybe a little fearfully, not able to stop the bubbling laugh that choked his throat.

"S-sir?" he was able to stammer out, his voice like glass against his throat and ears.

"Reid man, what did you do?"

Reid's head whipped around to behind him. "M-Morgan?"

"Reid, why would you lie to us?" asked Garcia, horrified. Reid shook his head, confused and realizing he was suddenly surrounded by the team. Rossi was there next to the blank-faced Hotch, his face twisted into an over exaggerated version of disgust and betrayal.

"How could you, Reid," whispered JJ, her face a mask of hurt, "I thought we were friends!"

Reid stared at them all, his head spinning faster and faster as they crowded closer and closer, suffocating him under their dead stares and murmuring voices, all repeating the same thing.

"Liar… liar… liar…"

Reid clutched his desk, leaning backwards with his vision zooming in and out of focus, becoming lost in a whirlwind of colour and noise. "_I don't understand!_" he tried to say, but his voice died and to his horror, all that came from his throat was a hoarse bark. Looking down, all he could see was giant peels of his flesh falling away, patches of black and white fur blooming out of his chest and mingling with the blood. _His _blood.

"Stop," he croaked out, but all that came out was a whimper, "Please, help me…"

But the team only watched as Reid fell to his knees, his muscles collapsing off of his legs, his whole body consumed by a wild shaking. Pools of blood gathered on the floor, slick and sticky on his fur, the taste of it on his tongue and lapping at his team's shoes, scarlet red stained over the carpet…

Reid sat up with a gasp from his bed, the lingering taste of blood in his mouth. Scrambling over his bed, he made a lunge at his lamp, flicking it on to bring an overwhelmingly bright light over the dark room. He brought a hand up to shield his eyes and his arm brushed his mouth, coming away wet. Squinting down, he saw his arm and hand had small specks of black crimson blood smeared over his pale skin. It took a long, panicked moment before he realized that the blood had come from when he had bit a hole on the inside of his cheek sometime during his nightmare.

He breathed a shaky sigh and peered at his bedside clock, reading the blinking numbers of 6:04. Figuring it wasn't too early, he heaved himself out of bed, shaking off the last remnants of his horrible dream.

Shuffling into his kitchen a half-hour later, after a nice long shower and having dressed for the day, Reid yawned and went about making his morning coffee. A small meow sounded as he finished spooning coffee grinds into the machine and Reid gave a small smile at the black and white kitten perching on his countertop.

"Oscar, I've told you before, no going on the counter," he scolded gently, lifting the kitten away from the gurgling coffee machine. Oscar purred loudly in response and Reid deposited his kitten onto one of the chairs next to his table, the only one not stacked high with books. With a tired groan, Reid flopped down on his couch, peeking an eye open at the soft thump Oscar made jumping off the chair onto the floor. A second later, the kitten had leaped up and stood in the middle of Reid's chest, kneading his tiny paws contentedly on the man's shirt.

"Bad dream," spoke Reid aloud, rubbing the top of Oscar's head. "Really bad dream." Oscar peered at him with bright yellow eyes, pausing in his kneading to look at his master. Reid sighed unhappily.

"What am I going to do, Oscar? The dream, it's a parallel, I know it is. I can't let them find out, and I'm terrified that I'll lose control and they'll know I've been lying to them. What do you think my team would do if they knew I was some sort of half-dog, half-man freak?" he ranted sadly.

_You're not a freak, _meowed Oscar, giving Reid a glare, _you're just different._

"That's what my teachers used to say when I told them about being bullied," muttered Reid. "And what about the fact that I can talk to you, then? That's not normal at all."

Oscar shook his tiny kitten head, stopping his kneading all together. _Why is that a bad thing? Personally, I enjoy talking to you. Even if you are a bit of a moron sometimes._

"What am I going to tell my team," demanded Reid, ignoring Oscar's previous statement, "When I just suddenly start growing fur?" Thinking back to his dream, Reid shuddered, blinking his eyes quickly so he could look up at Oscar clearly.

It had been nearly a month since Reid had been changed back into a human, and a little over three weeks since he had discovered his abilities. He still remembered with crystal-clear clarity when it had first happened. Luckily, he had been sitting in his own home, reading at the time instead of with others or in a public place. It had started as only a light itch over his skin, which fast escalated into a familiar fiery burn that spread throughout his entire body. He hadn't even been able to scream, the accustomed pain racing through his body and leaving him frozen in terror. After a few agonizing minutes, he had once again been reduced to a dog; it had taken hours for him to calm down enough that he discovered he was able to change back.

He had since then discovered that certain triggering emotions would knock him back down to four legs, although if he stayed too long in his human form, he would just turn into a dog anyways, without anything setting it off. It was like there was a timer, and the longer he went without transforming, the harder it became to suppress it. So far, since the initial transformation, the longest he had gone between transformations was four days; although, he found it _was_ getting easier to control.

"It's impossible to assume," said Reid, continuing with his line of thinking, "That now that I'm going back to work full-time, that the team won't notice it."

Reid had gone back to work just two weeks ago, but had been stuck on desk-duty, not yet cleared for field work. He had only just gotten the call yesterday that he was expected to go back full-time and that they would have a case ready for him and his team the very next morning.

Realizing suddenly that the team probably _did_ have a case this morning, Reid quickly checked the time, knowing that they were supposed to go in early. It was only a little after seven and Reid got to his feet, not paying attention to what Oscar was now meowing about.

"Gotta go," mumbled Reid, grabbing his messenger bag off the floor and jogging into the kitchen to get his cup of coffee. Oscar once again jumped up onto the counter as Reid stirred several spoons worth of sugar into his drink.

_Spencer,_ Oscar mewed, waiting for Reid to look at him before continuing. _I know you're worried, and probably scared, but don't worry. If you insist on keeping this a secret, just remember that you're a master profiler._

"They are too, Oscar," pointed out Reid, taking a cautious sip of his steaming cup of java. Oscar gave an irritated huff, and nipped at his master's hand playfully.

_You'll be fine. You can control it no problem, _purred the kitten, trying to sound encouraging.

"I feel like Bruce Banner," Reid grumbled back, gathering his things and preparing to head out.

_Just stay calm, and remember, I love you!_ Oscar chirped cheerfully, watching as his master disappeared out the door with just a small wave behind him as a good-bye.

As soon as Reid was gone, the cat sat and sighed, flicking his tail absent-mindedly. Rolling his eyes towards the heavens, the cat looked around the empty and silent apartment, pondering on his new master. _That boy is stubborn as a brick wall, _he mused to himself,_ and nearly as thick._

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**A/N: Sorry that's so short. I have the next chapter written, so I'll post it next week. As for when other updates will come, I'm not sure because I haven't even started chapter 3. I'm hoping actually having a goal to write a chapter for this story each week will motivate me to write more. Otherwise, this is gonna be a repeat of Guardian, minus the rushed writing. I'm gonna make sure this doesn't completely suck before I post it, and having a beta will slow me down too, get me to put a bit more quality into it. So that's good.**

**Reviews right now will be appreciated beyond your comprehension. **


	2. I'm fine

**A/N: Hey guys, I'm posting a day earlier then I was planning, but I'm gonna be busy tomorrow and I don't want to forget to post this. Huge, HUGE thanks to everyone for their reviews, they really helped. So thanks. **

**On another note, I've started chapter 3 but I've been going to a summer art camp all week and I'm visiting family this weekend so I don't know when you'll see it published... Sorry about that, hang in there! *sarcasm implied* Also, I was planning on making this story as long as the first one, build up to the plot I have in my head, but I actually hate this story and the crime factor I wrote about (sorry if it sucks, like I said, I hate writing it but I have to for this story). So I'm basically jumping straight into the action because I honestly don't have enough ideas to build up to it/stretch it out. So this should be a fairly short sequel. *cheering from the author***

**Thanks to _silverwrym_ for beta-ing this and stopping me from repeating the same word five times in a paragraph. **

**Warnings: Brief mention of sexual assault, a description of blood, basically nothing to warn you about.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own CM, blah blah blah.**

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**Chapter 2: I'm fine**

"Hey, Reid, what's up man?"

Reid jerked violently and nearly tipped coffee all over himself, stumbling over his own two feet in startled shock. "F-fine," he stuttered out, "Why wouldn't I be?"

Morgan frowned slightly at the nervous genius who was juggling his cup of coffee between his shaking hands, and whose eyes were darting about like he was searching for some sort of threat. "You OK?" he eventually asked, carefully observing his friend's reaction.

Reid gave a firm nod, stopping his fidgeting. "I'm good, thanks for asking," he said politely. Yet he wouldn't look Morgan in the eye, instead opting to scurry around the man and continue down the hall towards the Conference room. "We have a case, right?"

Morgan arched an eyebrow at the back of the retreating genius, muttering under his breath, "Umm, yeah? Where's the fire?" Reid didn't seem to hear the man and continued walking.

"Something wrong with Reid?" asked Emily, appearing at Morgan's side, having watched the conversation from her desk. The raven-haired woman had a crease above her eyes, worry shining through her usual mask of emotions as she questioned Morgan.

Morgan gave a sigh and replied, "I'm not sure."

"Something's wrong with Reid?" asked another voice, joining the conversation. Morgan and Emily turned to find a very concerned Garcia standing behind them, her arms filled with files.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Garcia," assured Emily, "He's just getting back into the rhythm is all." But a small frown played on her head and Morgan remained silent.

Shaking off their worries for the time being, the team gathered in the Conference room, settling down comfortably and switching on their tablets to read through the files sent to them.

"You guys are heading to San Francisco," Garcia declared, clicking the button on her remote. Instantly, pictures of a hideously disfigured body flashed up onto the screen. It was difficult to make out any details to the victim, since their body was practically torn apart, blood pooling and leaking from every orifice. Even the most experienced agents felt their stomachs twist and churn at the gory sight.

"The victim has been identified as James Michael, age forty-six. Last seen outside his home three weeks ago. He turned up like this about ten hours ago."

"Why is this a BAU case?" questioned Morgan, "It appears like this is the only victim in the case, right? So why are we being called in so early in the investigation?"

Garcia nodded. "Right you are, my chocolate god, this is the first victim related to the case, but due to the brutality of the crime, San Francisco police aren't taking any chances. And there was also this."

Garcia clicked another button, while she avoided looking at the screen herself, and a new image jumped out at them. It was a close up of the man's chest. There, carved in jagged, deep wounds was a mysterious symbol. Or more clearly, a string of _different _symbols.

"Police have no clue what it is," explained Garcia. "They're hoping we can shed some light on the case."

"Those symbols…" Reid mused quietly. "They mean 'assailant.'"

"Is it some sort of ancient code?" asked Rossi, and surprisingly, Reid blushed.

"Ummm, I don't remember," he muttered, fidgeting as everyone now looked at him. "But I _do _know that's what it means."

Morgan shook his head and went to say something, but Hotch cut him off. "Wheels up in twenty; Garcia, you're coming with us."

"Of course, _mon ami_," piped the woman, and as Hotch gathered himself and strode out of the room, he was followed quickly by a retreating Reid. Morgan stared after his disappearing friend in concern, wondering what was wrong, because there just _had _to be something upsetting the kid. Why else would he be acting like that?

"Come on, Morgan," said Emily, passing by him. "We can worry about Reid later."

Morgan didn't say anything in reply to that, instead choosing to just hurl himself to his feet and follow the rest of his team out the door.

XXXXX

Reid trailed after the rest of the team as they exited the jet, toying with his messenger bag. The entire trip he had been restless and shaky with nerves. He was almost positive that everyone on the team had picked up that something was bothering him, although nobody had said anything yet. Not even Garcia. He could only hope that they would chalk it up to his nervousness over being back in the field.

"And this is Doctor Reid, our resident genius."

Reid jerked back to reality and nodded at the detective sent to pick them up from the airport, choosing not to shake the man's hand. The detective nodded back and motioned with his arm for the team to follow him. Once they were at the vehicles, Hotch split them up.

"Emily, take Reid with you to the crime scene, see what you can find. Morgan, you and Rossi can go and question the family. The rest of us will head to the station."

Everyone nodded their understanding and got into their own vans. When they were finally driving, Reid watched the scenery go by, lost in thought yet again.

"Hey, Reid, you ok? You've been acting kinda weird lately," Emily said, quickly glancing over at him in concern.

Reid gave a quick nod, then realizing that probably wasn't good enough, said, "Yeah, just a bit overwhelmed, I guess." Which wasn't exactly a lie either.

Emily shot him a look, like she knew it wasn't the full truth, but let the subject drop for the time being. The rest of the ride was in a stiff silence, with Emily shooting looks his way every once in a while that Reid pointedly ignored. Once at the crime scene, Reid led Emily into the old warehouse where the victim had been dumped, surveying the area. It reminded him a bit of the warehouse where Matthews had turned him from a dog back into a human.

The body had been removed, but the stains of blood were still there, pooling in mahogany splatters across the dusty cement. The air smelled strongly of rust that hit Reid right in the center of his chest, inflaming his heightened senses so he had to hold back a gag. The horrible, heavy smell of blood reminded Reid of his dream, and he bit his lip to gain back his concentration.

"Look at this," said Emily, roaming along the empty space and taking in the crime scene, littered with trash and graffiti. "The unsub obviously didn't care for his victim, and the presence of anger in the crime is obvious."

"From the amount of blood found, he would have had to nearly tear the victim apart," observed Reid, "Nearly all the blood in his body had drained out. That shows more than just rage; it shows he must be partly delusional, to lose that much control, and very, very dangerous to be around. It's doubtful that someone close to the unsub hasn't noticed something is wrong."

"Obviously there's someone, family or friends, that have noticed something is wrong with someone close to them."

"I'll tell JJ," said Reid, taking out his phone. Emily nodded and crossed her arms in front of herself as Reid told the rest of the team over speaker-phone everything he and Emily had picked up.

"The thing that's bugging me is what's the motive?" asked Rossi, when Reid was finished. "What's he getting out of these crimes?"

"There's a lack of sexual drive to the crimes, and they found no signs of rape."

"Although the body was so mangled they couldn't be positive," Emily jumped in.

Reid nodded. "But under the assumption that there was no sexual drive-"

"Impossible," Morgan interrupted, "The amount of rage would _have_ to suggest sexual motivation."

"Maybe it was a revenge kill?" JJ suggested. "That would explain the rage."

"What did Morgan and Rossi find out about our victim?" Emily said, changing the subject.

"The guy was ordinary," Morgan said. They could practically hear the shrug in his voice. "He had a wife and two kids, white-picket fence kinda deal."

"They had just moved here from down in Tampa," Rossi supplied, "But that was because the wife got a job offer, nothing connecting to our victim."

"We need to regroup," Hotch commanded, "We need to build up our profile as much as possible."

"Alright, we'll see you soon." And with that, Reid hung up the phone. He looked around at the lonely warehouse again, and Emily came up to his side.

"You sure you're ok?"

"Yeah," said Reid, brushing her off and walking away. "I'm fine."

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**Me: Wow, you say "I'm fine" a lot in this chapter.**

**Reid: Don't look at me, YOU'RE the writer.**

***mutters curses under my breath***

**Reid: Please Review!**


	3. The second nightmare

**A/N: ...I don't even have an excuse for how long it's taken me to finish this chapter, I'm so sorry, guys.**

**Thanks to my beta _silverwrym_ for being awesome and making my sentences smoother.**

**Warnings: Blood, mentions of gross stuff like vomit, the horrible shortness of this chapter.**

**Disclaimer: Of course I don't own CM, why the fuck would I be writing fanfiction if I did?**

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**Chapter 3: The second nightmare**

The police station was standard, as far as Reid thought. Plain, bustling with activity, and filled with pissed-off officers who though the FBI was taking over their case. You know, the usual.

Reid tried not to cower as a few heads turned their way as he and Emily walked through the station. He hated attention, and when he had been a dog he had grown used to the fact he could always slink around without drawing much notice to himself. But he _wasn't _a dog anymore, he was a human, and he refused to cringe beneath their stares. So lifting his chin high, and hooking one arm around the strap of his messenger bag, he strode next to Emily and ignored the leers directed their way.

"Anything new?" Emily asked as they entered the room, obviously intended for the team's use. Already there was a board with crime scene photos and bits of the profile tacked onto it in the corner, and the table was littered with cups of half-drank, cold cups of coffee.

"Not that we know of," Morgan answered. "I hate to say it, guys, but we need more evidence."

"We're gonna get it," Emily said mournfully. "This guy is already devolving, and things are going to get ugly fast."

"It's odd," Reid mused, hanging his bag on one of the chairs and approaching the board. "An unsub wouldn't just jump to this amount of uncontrollable rage. He would have to build up to it. And the crime itself screams of a disorganized killer, yet not a scrap of evidence was found at the scene."

"I'll look for other crimes committed in the area related to this case," Garcia said, pulling her laptop towards herself.

Reid nodded absentmindedly. "Look for crimes involving knives. This guy isn't someone to aim a gun at someone else. He uses his fists, knives, things that are personal and that prolong the torture."

Reid suddenly flinched like he'd been hit, and the team looked on in concern. "Reid, you ok?" Morgan said, getting up out of his chair. Reid quickly waved him away, ducking out of the room with his head bowed.

"Yeah, just gotta use the bathroom."

Reid made sure to lock the door behind him, and leaned on the sink, breathing slowly to try and calm himself. While he had been looking at the board, he had caught sight of the picture of the victim. His wife was on his arm, grinning, and his two kids had been there as well, eyes shining with humour and youth. The man, their victim, was laughing, his eyes glowing with pride and love for his family. A family that was now missing one member, and that would never be complete again. Those kids would grow up without a father, with only a single, grieving parent to support them. It wasn't fair!

A bolt of rage went through Reid's chest, hot, blinding, and familiar. Since Reid always felt a bit angry at the things people did to each other, even if he hid it well, the anger wasn't unexpected. He flinched, clenching his eyes shut as he felt the familiar burn throughout his body. He couldn't stand to be angry at the unfairness of the world, not anymore. The intensity of the emotions could trigger a transformation, and that was the last thing Reid wanted. So straightening, he had made a quick escape to the bathroom, where he concentrated on not freaking out.

The rage was gone, just a dull fire by now, but the panic and fear were threatening to overwhelm him. How could he do his job when the smallest things could knock him down, make him shake and start sprouting fur? He couldn't do it, he didn't know how.

Five more minutes were dedicated to stop that line of panicked thinking, then a few more to stop the tremors going through his body. Finally he stepped out, much calmer, and went back to the room where the team was still gathered.

Instantly six pairs of eyes whipped his way, searching him. Reid was really getting tired of the look in his team's eyes, like he was going to fall apart in front of them. Although by his behaviour lately, he guessed he couldn't really blame them. They were just trying to help, after all.

Too bad they couldn't, not for this.

"I'm fine," he said, before anyone could say anything, "Just got a bit dizzy for a second. Anxious about being back in the field, that's all."

"Do you want off the case?" Hotch asked seriously, his face set. "Maybe you came back too early."

Reid however, shook his head no. "Really, I'm fine, guys. What are we working on?"

The faces of his team lingered on him, but at his prodding, they drove back into their profile. However, it became obvious very quickly that they were headed nowhere; at least not tonight.

"Alright, let's pack up," said Hotch, frowning. "Go get some rest and we'll regroup in the morning."

The team mumbled their agreements and headed back to the hotel. Once there, they all split up with their usual roommates; Rossi with Hotch, Emily with JJ, and Morgan with Reid. Reid felt a brief moment of panic go through him, realizing he was sharing a room with someone else. He had hoped that he would get some privacy, some time to change and "recharge his battery," so to speak. Now he just had to pray this case wrapped up quickly, or he was going to have a problem.

He was fine as he showered and changed, but when he went to lay down in bed, he had to bite his lip to prevent turning into a dog. His body was used to changing at night, used to him sleeping as a dog. But with Morgan right next to him, that was impossible.

"Reid, are you sure you're alright? You've been acting really weird, man."

Reid slid under the covers of his bed, turning away from Morgan. "For the last time, I'm fine."

Silence reigned before Morgan quietly sighed, then the light went out. Reid laid awake for a long time, listening to his friend snore in the bed next to him. He shouldn't have snapped at him. Now he was just going to be more worried, more suspicious. And he also didn't like to be so cruel to his friends – they just wanted to help, right?

Reid watched the minutes on the clock tick by, trying to empty his brain so it would rest, but it was nearly impossible with all his worries and fears and ideas plaguing his mind, slamming into him with relentless force. Finally, out of pure exhaustion, around two in the morning he fell into a restless sleep.

_Darkness. Blood. Fear. Something itched at the back of his neck, and when he put a hand up to scratch it, he was horrified to see just a paw. The itching was a collar, tightening around his neck as he struggled, trying to breathe._

_ "__Help!" he called into the darkness. "Help me, please!"_

_No answer came. _

_Reid fell to his knees, his body quaking and burning. A pitiful whine came from his constricted throat, and useless, blunt claws scrabbled at the collar, only succeeding in ripping the flesh surrounding it. Bile churned in his stomach, but with his airway blocked, very little could pass through – although some did, scorching his lungs and making his body convulse from his dry heaves. _

_ "__Why, Doctor Reid, what a situation you've gotten yourself into," a familiar voice said. _

_ "__Matthews?" panted Reid, craning his neck painfully to look up, spitting up more saliva. His stomach flipped and he retched again, tears streaming out of his eyes at the pain and sickness consuming his body. _

_ "__Ah, my dear Doctor, I never thought that this would happen. Please accept my sincerest apologies." Matthews crouched next to Reid, his hands gently stroking over Reid's silky dog ears, soothing the fur down. He looked just the same as when Reid had last seen him, even still wearing Hotch's handcuffs._

_ "__What are you talking about?" Reid wheezed, too weak to lift his head again. So Matthews did. Meeting the man's gaze was hard, and Reid's vision spun with Matthew's intense blue eyes and the constant amused smirk of his mouth. "Wha-?"_

_More spit dripped from his mouth and Matthews calmly wiped it away. "There's a storm coming, Doctor, and I'd suggest you read the signs before it swallows you up."_

_The collar had now become so tight that Reid couldn't breathe, let alone talk or vomit up more of his stomach's contents. Blood coated his nostrils and he gasped like a fish out of water, foam frothing at the corners of his mouth like he had rabies, or some other incurable disease. Matthews smiled at him, then dropped his hold on Reid's head, letting it fall to the floor with a bang. Reid's head swam and blinked with lights from his lack of oxygen, and it was only dimly that he could see Matthews walking away, leaving him in a pool of his own fluids. _

_Help me…! He mouthed, but no sound came. _

When Reid bolted upright out of his nightmare, he knew instantly that something was wrong. He hunched over and took in huge gulps of air, bits of spit clinging to his lips and shaking all over before realizing, in pure terror, that he was in the middle of a transformation. Lifting a hand – no, a _paw _– Reid struggled to draw the blanket up around himself, trying to gain comfort from its feel and smell.

But the bittersweet scent of detergent and cat hair didn't meet his nostrils to reassure him; all he smelled was mothballs and thread, the fabric rougher than that of his bed in his home. The realization that he wasn't in his own bed, and was in fact in a hotel, did nothing to calm him down.

"Hey, Reid, you awake?" called a voice, and his heart skipped a beat.

Jerking his head up, he saw the bed Morgan had been using abandoned and the bathroom door shut. The voice had come from the shut door, and judging from the brief whiff of shampoo and fresh water Reid could smell, Morgan had just finished his usual morning shower.

Somehow, the thought of his roommate walking in on him as half a dog calmed him. A feeling of strength washed over him and his mind emptied of all emotion, making it easy for Reid to concentrate and shift fully back as a human. In under ten seconds, he was back to normal.

After giving a small cough – to make sure his voice still worked and wouldn't come out as a bark – he called back to Morgan, "Um, yeah, I'm getting up now."

He heard Morgan chuckle, and a moment later the man emerged, fully dressed. "You want a shower?"

Reid nodded and slid out of bed, resisting the urge to sprint to the safety of the bathroom. The last thing he saw before he closed the door was Morgan's slightly worried face staring back at him, apparently convinced something was wrong. Reid turned on the shower, than leaned back against the wall, sighing in relief.

That had been too close.

* * *

**A/N: Haha, so I suck, nothing new. Sorry for the shortness, I just wanted to get something out there and I actually don't mind this chapter too much. *chorus of angels start singing* Yeah yeah, I'm shit, I know. Good news though! Writing out the nightmare scene (which was not intended, by the way) has given me ideas for how this story will go, so hopefully I can get a new chapter to you soon. I don't even have school to worry about, since here in BC all the teachers are on strike. So yeah, I'll have some free time to work on this. Hopefully.**

**Other than that, stay tuned, and please review!**


	4. The only experiment

**A/N: So wow, it's only been like two weeks since my last update. That's not too bad, is it? Whatever, I've started slowing down a bit and got way more descriptive (which I'm trying to do for all my stories) and I have to say, I'm actually quite proud of this chapter. There's a first for everything, right? Lol :)**

**On a side note I chose to place this case in San Francisco because I've actually been there! I went there on a school trip last year and I fell in love with it. The art, the music, the amazing architecture, the general friendlyness of the people, the LGBTQ pride! All of it was amazing. I took great pride in describing it, no matter how brief. **

**Thank you to my beta _silverwrym_ for telling me to calm the fuck down with all the commas I use.**  


**Warnings: None, I think, besides some sad themes involving kidnapped kids and unhappy dogs. **

**Disclaimer: Do I _look_ like I own CM?**

* * *

**Chapter 4: The only experiment**

The hot water calmed Reid's heartbeat down, but flashes and snippets from his dream kept coming back to haunt him. He wasn't sure, but he felt like it really was a warning, although he knew that was impossible.

_I'm a man of science_, he thought, _I don't believe in such things as dreams telling the future or bad omens. _

Still, the feeling wouldn't go away.

Morgan watched him whenever he thought Reid wouldn't notice, and Reid pretended like he didn't know what the other agent was doing. The genius suspected his friend was restraining himself from questioning Reid on his odd behaviour, and considering Morgan's nature, he was doing remarkably well at holding his tongue. Reid wasn't going to push it.

Just when it looked like Morgan was going to break his silent streak – with Reid trying desperately to find an escape before that happened – someone knocked rather loudly on the door. The noise was a lifesaver to Reid and he yanked the door open, still buttoning up his shirt one-handed.

Emily stood there, a grim look on her face and her hair drawn back in a hasty ponytail – a sure sign she hadn't brushed it that morning. All the gratitude drained out of Reid at the sight of her; she looked like she was delivering a telegram to a soldier's newly widowed wife.

"We just got a new lead," she said. Behind him, Morgan groaned and sat up from the bed.

"Who was killed this time?"

Emily shook her head. "No murder."

Seeing Morgan and Reid's confused looks, she sighed. "You better come quickly."

XXXXX

Back at the station, the team gathered around the table. Reid realized it was only six in the morning – a bit early for Morgan to have been up before him, but maybe he hadn't slept that well – and the team was feeling it. JJ had red eyes that she kept rubbing to stay awake, Rossi had yawned five times in the last few minutes, and Garcia was clutching a cup of coffee like her life depended on it. The only one that looked put together was Hotch, dressed and alert.

"Last night, at approximately three o'clock, Scott Locke, aged nine, was abducted out of his bed in his family's home. His parents woke up about an hour ago, and immediately informed police of their son's disappearance."

"A child abduction?" Morgan said, baffled. "How is this connected to the murder?"

"Police have combed the crime scene, and all that was left was a note," Hotch informed them.

He held up a paper enclosed in an evidence bag, yellowed like it was aged and covered in small water-marks. Written across it in spiky, jagged printing were similar symbols to that carved on the murder victim. "This."

Hotch set the paper down on the table and continued talking, but Reid wasn't listening. He was entranced by the writing and pulled it towards himself, his mind quickly deciphering it into an understandable translation. It was unmistakable now – the symbols were of All-speak, the language all animals (besides humans) could communicate in. Somehow, someone, had translated it into writing, and Reid could understand it just as easily as if an animal had said it.

He was broken from his thoughts by someone's voice asking, "Reid, can you read it?" He looked up to see everyone staring at him expectedly, and it took him a moment to realize the voice had been Rossi's gruff tone. He cleared his throat, then started reading aloud.

_"__There is three reasons for what I do; one lies dead already, one is held within my hands, and one lays out of reach with a choice of giving himself up for the greater good."_

Silence greeted those words. After a lengthy pause Morgan asked, "Okkkkk, what the hell does that mean?"

"_One lays dead already _probably refers to James Michael," JJ mused, "And _one is held within my hands _is obviously Scott Locke. If we go with that line of reasoning, there's going to be a third victim."

"Someone the unsub feels is untouchable," Emily said. "Someone that needs to make a choice, of some sort. For 'the greater good,' as the unsub said."

"Maybe he's suffering a delusion of some type," Rossi suggested. "Maybe he has a purpose for doing what he's doing."

Morgan threw up his hands in frustration. "But with no connection between either of the two victims, how are we supposed to find the third? We can't even figure out what this unsub wants!"

"We need to figure out the connection between these two victims," Hotch decided. "Garcia, find us anything. I want to know if these two families went to church together, shopped at the same stories, or even so much as sneezed in the others direction."

"On it, sir!"

"Reid, you and JJ go and talk to the family. See what you can find out."

JJ nodded and stood. Reid followed, leaving the rest of his team to brainstorm and delegate tasks. He couldn't help the itch in the back of his mind, whispering that something was going to go wrong, something he wouldn't be able to predict, or stop.

XXXXX

JJ seemed grim on the car drive, but more than anything, sad and very, very tired. Reid watched the San Francisco skyline pass, fog covering the Golden Gate Bridge and masking Alcatraz in clouds of smoke-white haze. Eventually the car switched away from the misty coastline, already bustling with colours and people despite the early morning, and turned onto the narrow street-ways, steep and crowded. They passed by elegant apartment buildings carved into stone at ninety degree angles, leading deeper into the city and eventually turning into a neighbourhood with old-fashioned Victorian houses. The house they pulled up to was a light blue, draped over in grey trim with a little garden out front filled with marigolds and tulips.

"Nice house," Reid commented, but JJ only nodded. "Hey, you ok?" he asked, concerned.

"I'm fine, Spence, just stressed." The blond gave a wide yawn. "And tired. I didn't… sleep too well."

Reid knew what she was saying. "Yeah, I didn't either."

She gave him a small smile and opened the door to van. "Let's just find this boy and get him home, ok?"

The door was opened before they could knock, and standing there was a middle-aged white man with sad, watery eyes and short black hair. "More cops?" he rasped, his voice gritty like it hurt to talk.

"FBI," said JJ softly, holding up her badge for him to see. "We have a few questions for you and your wife about your son." He looked like he was going to refuse, then just deflated and nodded.

He led them into a quaint little living room, plain but with a lived-in feel to it. A yellow blanket hanging off the back of the couch was rumpled and coated in dog-hair with a rainbow of Legos scattered in the corner. A TV droned in the background.

"Laura?" the man called, "There are people here to talk to us about… about Scott." A woman, undoubtedly Mrs. Locke, emerged from the kitchen. She was plump, in her mid-forties with black hair tied back messily away from her cocoa-coloured skin. Make-up was smudged across her face and clearly she had been crying.

"Mrs. Locke, Mr. Locke, we're terribly sorry for this, but we just have a few questions to ask about your son's disappearance."

Mr. Locke nodded and said, "Anything that'll help our son." They moved back into the living room where they all sat, the parents on one couch and Reid and JJ on another across from them.

"So, Mrs. Locke-"

"Please, Laura," she said, "And this is Brian." The man nodded and wrapped his hand around his wife's.

"Ok, Laura, can you tell me what happened?" JJ asked.

"I woke up this morning at about five, because I got a call from the hospital saying one of the other nurses had called in sick and I was needed," she said shakily. The agents noticed she was still wearing a nurse's uniform. "And I went in to check on Scott before I went," she continued, her eyes tearing up, "But he wasn't there! Just a note! And, and-"

The woman dissolved into tears and her husband gave her a huge hug. As she cried on his shoulder, he cleared his throat and said, "I heard her screaming and came up to find my little boy gone. We called the police but they didn't find anything. Supposedly it's connected to a recent… murder?" He choked the word "murder" out like it was paining him.

"It's too early to tell," JJ assured them, and he clenched his jaw, holding back tears.

"He's only nine," sniffed Laura, wiping her eyes. JJ reached over and gave her a tissue for her to blow her nose. "He's been through so much already…"

"Wait, what do you mean? Did something happen to your son recently?" Reid asked.

"Scott isn't really our child," Brian said. He exchanged looks with his wife. "Laura couldn't have children – we tried for years – and one day a friend of ours asked if we would be interested in foster-care. We took in Scott about a year ago, and we officially adopted him about a month ago."

"His father was a drinker," Laura said tearfully, "And his mother wasn't an acceptable parent. He was so withdrawn when he got here. It took him nearly a month to just _speak _to us."

"He was just settling in," Brian said brokenly. "He was going to school and had made some new friends. He stopped flinching whenever someone spoke too loud, and he s-started calling us mom and d-dad."

Laura broke into tears again. "We even got him a dog, because it was the first thing he ever asked us for. I couldn't bear to say no, even though dogs frighten me."

"We just want him home."

JJ lowered her eyes in sympathy as the parents broke down and sobbed in each other's arms; these kinds of cases always got to her, and she had to pinch her arm to remind herself that Henry was at home with Will, perfectly safe.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to do a cognitive interview with you," she asked, when Laura had wiped her eyes and was making an effort to stop her grief.

"Wha-what's that?"

"Sometimes we see or hear things and we don't realize how important they are. Any detail helps," JJ explained gently.

"As you do that, do you mind if I see Scott's room?" interjected Reid, and they nodded in consent.

"His room is upstairs, first room on the right."

The house wasn't as big as it looked, but it was fairly sized; just the right size for the family of three. As Reid went up the set of stairs, hearing the dull rambles of JJ performing the interview with Mrs. Locke – hoping to gain insight on the night before the child's disappearance – he couldn't help staring at the framed pictures on the walls, showing the family. Scott was small for his age, looking closer to five then to nine, with murky grey eyes and a shock of messy orange hair.

Scott's room looked typical of a young boy. His bed wasn't made, the orange tiger-patterned sheets hanging off the end, and more Legos were scattered across the floor. A row of stuffed animals – mostly cats – sat on the windowsill in the sun. Rubber dinosaur figurines peeked out from behind the closet door, socks hung out of the wooden dresser next to the closet, and the desk was covered in crayons, stray pieces of paper, and colouring books. Nothing seemed too out of place, and the window was still firmly shut and locked. Reid didn't see how someone could have sneaked in and stolen the kid without a trace.

Reid only noticed the dog laying on the bed when he stepped farther into the room and she growled out a warning. It was a golden retriever, not very old – maybe only a year or two – with an orange collar and light brown eyes.

_Stop right there, _she snarled again. But her expression was disheartened, and she didn't move. Her head slumped back down on the boy's pillow, and she sighed softly in sadness when Reid remained frozen. The young agent remembered that Scott's parents had said they had gotten him a dog.

_You're Scott's dog. _It wasn't a question; Reid already knew. The dog sighed again, then cocked an ear at Reid.

_You're him, aren't you? The human that can talk to animals. And turn into one, too._

_How do you know that?_

_Word gets around._

Reid moved and sat on the end of the bed, letting the sun's rays wash over him and warm his cold hands. The dog didn't growl again, just closed her eyes and buried her snout in the orange sheet, sniffing. Reid gently lifted her collar and shifted the tags to read it. The dog didn't move. The nametag identified the golden retriever as vaccinated, where her home address was located, and that her name was Ginger.

_Ginger, do you know what happened to Scott? Who took him?_

Ginger opened her eyes slowly and shook her head. _You are also an FBI agent, am I correct? You are looking for my young master?_

_I'm trying, _Reid replied, looking at the stack of small chapter books on Scott's side-table. The dog followed his gaze and gave a small ruff of amusement.

_Young master always loved to read. He would read to me at night before he went to sleep, and even after his parents tucked him in he would use a flashlight to continue reading. His voice was always so soothing, would put me right to sleep, although I always tried to stay awake – mostly so young master would not take offense, but also to keep up with the story._

_Ah, _said Reid, moving to look at the books. _Roald Dahl seems to be his favourite._

Ginger smiled, or as close to a smile as a dog could get. _Young master was just starting "The Witches."_

Reid nodded, then something occurred to him. _Wait, did you say you sleep in here?_

_On the end of young master's bed, each night, _she confirmed.

_Then did you see anything? _Reid asked excitedly. _Maybe see the unsub? Did you recognize who it was?_

_No, _she said miserably, _I got in trouble for chewing up one of Laura's expensive pair of shoes. _She snickered to herself. _I could not help myself, they were genuine leather. Delicious!_

_Um, yeah, _said Reid, and she quickly adopted a sheepish expression.

_The point I am making is that I spent the night in the yard. I was still up when the moon was at its peak, and that is when I heard noises. Then all of the sudden, someone is dragging me out of my doghouse by the chain. I couldn't breathe, otherwise I would have howled, or bit him. _

_So it was a him? _Reid questioned.

_You have been a dog before? _

Reid hesitated then bowed his head in conformation. Ginger let out a huff.

_Then you know what I mean when I say he smelled like a male?_

Reid did know what she meant. Each person had a different scent, but males and females had distinctly diverse odours. Similarly, family members that were related had a shared undertone of fragrance. But that wasn't important, at the moment.

_So it was a male, then, what else? _

_Not much, I'm afraid, _Ginger sighed. _He was probably a half-grown human, since he was stronger than a child-human but not as feeble as an elder-human. Unfortunately, before I could bite him he held a cloth to my nose and I fell asleep very quickly. _She gave a sneeze, wrinkling her lips. _It had a horrible smell; my nose is still numb. I'm afraid that the scent of your "unsub" has been evaporated from me completely. _

Reid stared helplessly at the lamp on the boy's side-table and the stack of much-loved books piled meticulously next to it. Sitting on the pillow by Ginger's head was a tiny, stuffed tabby cat, clearly the favourite of the child. The room, it reflected Scott – and it showed that despite his earlier upbringing, Scott was a bright, curious child who had settled into this new home, bursting with joy and love. It was a good household.

_Is it possible Scott knew his attacker and went willingly?_

_Doubtful, _Ginger said, shaking her head slowly. _Young master did not trust adults very much, besides Laura and Brain. Sadly, all it would take is a bit of intimidation, and young master would have gone along with anyone, to avoid harm to himself. He cannot help it, see. It is trained in him from his previous father. _The dog bristled angrily at the mention of Scott's real father. _His real father was a brute, nothing like our Brian. Young master used to have nightmares and cry all the time, but he was getting better. _

_But old habits die hard, _Reid exhaled, _could it have been Scott's father that took him? Or his real mother?_

_Both parents are dead, _Ginger said. _Young master was telling me about it. He overheard Brian telling Laura how the father beat the mother to death, then was caught in a police shooting. Young master did not really understand; he just knew neither of them could ever hurt him again. He finally changed after that, for good._

_You mean he started being more outgoing and trusting?_

_Yes. But he also stopped changing. Dr. Matthews was most thrilled by the news. _

The hairs on the back of Reid's neck rose and his heart thudded against his ribs. _What? _

Ginger turned her droopy eyes to his and replied, _you have not guessed yet? I thought you would know. _

Reid remembered the last time he had seen Matthews, how the man had said that Reid wasn't his first experiment. That there had been a man in Tampa… _Wait!_ James Michael and his family had moved to San Francisco from _Tampa_. And the second experiment had been a young boy from an abusive household, turned into…

_Scott is a _cat_? _Reid nearly shouted, thoughts flying through his head.

Ginger looked startled by Reid's near-panic and confusion. _No, not anymore. After young master heard the news of his parent's deaths, he stopped shifting into a tabby as much. He no longer needed to. He only stayed a cat when he was scared, and there was no need to be scared and hide here. Everyone was delighted. Young master started regularly attending school and was officially adopted by our Laura and Brian last month. _

_Did he retain the ability to shape-shift? _Reid asked, his hands trembling.

Ginger seemed to think about it, and inside Reid he was just screaming for her to tell him, hurry up and tell him if she knew the cure for his problem.

_Yes, _she finally determined, _whenever young master got too scared he would turn, and we'd have to coax him back into his human form. But as I said, he was getting better. The past three months he only changed twice, and that was after some particularly nasty nightmares._

Reid stared down at his shaking hands, feeling a storm of frustration and anger overtaking him. How had Scott mastered his ability? How had the man from Tampa done it, if he had been the same as them? How could Reid stop this, make it so he didn't have to shift every few days and could go months, like Scott? Why was this happening to _him_?

_You are going to find my young master, aren't you? _Ginger pleaded, breaking Reid from his self-pity and anger. The dog would have been crying, if dogs could cry. Instead she was whimpering quietly in the back of her throat, staring at Reid with such strength and intensity that it made him uncomfortable.

_Yeah, I'm gonna try, Ginger._

Her head went back down on the pillow, and again she sniffed – and this time, Reid realized she was trying to gain the scent of her young master through the haze of chloroform clogging her senses. His heart went out to the family, including Ginger, and he prayed that they would find Scott in time and bring him back home where they all could forget this incident ever happened.

_One more question, Ginger. When was the last time Dr. Matthews was here? And do you know where he is?_

_He was here last month, to celebrate the adoption. We all had steak for dinner. _Ginger shook her head, as if to clear it of all thoughts of meat. _That was the last time he was here, and as for where he is now, I have not a clue. Lovely man, he is, had a wonderful conversation with me. _Then the dog let her head droop again and she whined softly._ Reminds me of my young master, how he would speak to me. I miss him…_

Reid didn't think she was going to say more, so he said his farewells to Ginger – she didn't respond, just closed her eyes – and he headed back downstairs. He had been up there longer then he had thought, and found that JJ was done her with her interview. The parents looked distraught, but also a bit hopeful, like these two new FBI profilers were going to have their son home for dinner.

"Your dog, Ginger, is upstairs," said Reid delicately.

"She refuses to leave Scott's bed," Brian murmured. "She's been up there all day, just whining and looking at us."

"It's my fault," Laura babbled, "I put her outside for chewing up my shoes – it was my fault really, I left them out in the open, and I know how she gets – and I just can't help thinking of how it might have been different if… if G-ginger h-had been… had been with h-him."

"This was not your fault," JJ said firmly. "You couldn't have prevented this. Sometimes these things just happen." The parents clutched each other's hands and Laura nodded dumbly, clinging to anything that took her guilt away for just a moment.

"Thank you for all your help," JJ said as Reid joined her, looking at him like she was going to ask what had taken him so long. "The FBI and San Francisco police are putting all their resources into locating your son."

Laura wiped her eyes with another tissue, but it looked like she didn't have any other tears to spare. "Thank you," she said in a thick voice, and Brian opened the door for them, nodding his thanks as they passed.

Outside, the air was crisp and cool with the sun just hovering over the horizon, banishing the fog and leaving the sky a clear, optimistic baby-blue. Some birds were singing nearby and joggers passed by with their dogs, leashes jingling and pants forming steamy breathes. Traffic trickled down the quiet neighbourhood and echoed in the distance. It was such a beautiful morning, but looking back on the house they had just left, Reid thought it looked dimer than all the others – depressed, like it knew a member was missing from it's safe embrace. More sorrow flooded Reid as he turned his back to the scene, leaving the last image of Laura and Brian hugging each other locked in the foremost of his mind.

"Anything?" JJ inquired, starting the vehicle.

Reid shook his head. "The room looked untouched, and the window was still locked. No sign of a struggle. What about you?"

JJ puffed out a tired exhale. "Nothing. Mrs. Locke couldn't recall anything else from last night. I did learn that they took Scott in more than a year ago but in the first few months he didn't even leave the house or his room. Eventually he started speaking and going to school, but it wasn't until his biological parents were killed that he started really opening up."

"But?" Reid prompted.

"But," JJ said, "His parents said he was still recovering. The unsub could have easily snuck in and frightened Scott into submission."

"The unsub was probably stalking them, too."

"Oh, definitely. He waited until the dog wasn't in the home, when he knew the parents would be in bed, and took Scott without making a sound or leaving a trace of evidence." JJ drummed her nails on the steering wheel.

Reid didn't say anything else, trying to untangle the knots of his frantic thoughts that had been turning circles since he'd found out Scott was also one of Matthew's experiments. If he could only _talk _to Matthews, figure out why he was still part dog when the man had promised Reid that he would be turned back to normal. But Ginger hadn't known where the man was, and Reid doubted he could track him down by himself. That only left him this case, connected to Matthews and every person linked to the crazy man. With a sinking feeling, Reid could feel all the puzzle pieces falling into place, and he didn't like how the picture looked.

Someone out there was after Matthew's experiments; and Reid was the only one unaccounted for.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you to everyone that reviewed last chap, and please tell me what you think! I think this chap is different from previous and I'm working into a new style (a better one, I think). Also, the teacher's strike is officially over. I'm actually going back to school tomorrow. Woof, that's gonna suck, since my sleep cycle is screwed to fucking hell. Getting up at 6 to catch the bus when I haven't gotten up before 9 since June is gonna kill me. Anyways, my point is I may slow down on my writing, but I do have the plot planned. So hopefully I can finish this before the new year *laughs into infinity* Haha like THAT'S gonna happen. If I actually get my ass in gear and finish this story before 2015 I'll eat my own freakin' dirty-ass shoes.**

**Also, if any of you don't know who _Roald Dahl _is, he's a (quite dark) children's author. You probably know some of his works like, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," "James and the Giant Peach," or "Fantastic Mr. Fox." I loved him as a kid and even now, but his stories also disturbed me (like "The Enormous Crocodile." I mean, he was _thrown into the sun wtf dude that terrified me_). His story "The Witches" was really cute but also really sad, and I felt like it fit given the background of Scott. I'd highly recommend any of _Roald Dahl's_ books; doesn't matter if they're meant for little kids, they're awesome!**

**Anyways, till next time, guys! :D**


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